Iris beamed as she twirled in front of Victor, her eyes shining with excitement. "Honey, I've already asked my designer to make me a gown—it's going to look perfect on me! And I'll hire my makeup artist too. I want to make sure I'm the most beautiful for that night! Oh my gosh, I'm freaking excited!"
Victor's brows furrowed as he carefully unwrapped Iris's arms around him. His voice carried a note of confusion. "What are you talking about? I don't get it."
Her lips briefly formed a pout, but she quickly replaced it with a playful smile. "Victor, there's no need to pretend. I saw the Mayor's invitation addressed to you. You're going to the party, right? Of course, I had a gown made for me." She trailed her fingers over his chest, her nails lightly brushing against his crisp business suit.
The soft hum of the city below seeped into Victor's penthouse. From this height at the top of his company's tower, the world felt far away, isolated—a place where no one could interrupt their private "sessions".
Victor's jaw tightened, and a flicker of irritation crossed his face. He leaned back slightly, his tone sharp as he spoke. "You're not coming with me for that night."
Iris froze, her mouth falling open in disbelief. "Why not? The invitation clearly says it's for two people. That means you and me!" Her voice rose, tinged with both confusion and defiance.
Victor exhaled heavily, running a hand through his hair as he rose from the plush couch. His eyes locked on hers, unwavering. "You're right, the invitation is for two. But that doesn't mean you're the one I'm taking," he stated with quiet finality.
Iris's fists clenched at her sides, though she forced a calm facade. Her voice carried a sharp edge as she asked, "Then who are you taking? Ray?" She spat the name of his assistant, her eyes narrowing slightly.
"No. Julia's coming with me to the party," he replied, his voice flat, without a hint of feeling.
Iris's eyes widened, her breath catching in her throat. "What?! You're taking your useless wife?" Her voice cracked with disbelief. "Why her? What does she even know about fancy parties? I'm your girlfriend! I'm the one you should be taking!" Her hands balled into fists at her sides, her face scrunching up like a child in the middle of a tantrum.
Iris had been his everything before Julia came into the picture. She was the one he had pictured in his future, his ideal woman. She was his ex-girlfriend. When he had asked her to marry him, he had been sure she would say yes—but instead, she turned him down, claiming she wasn't ready to give up the freedom of being single, that marriage scared her.
The pain of losing Iris had cut deep. He had loved her with every part of himself—she was the woman he had dreamed of building his life with, yet she was slipping away, and he couldn't stop it.
Meeting Julia had been a turning point. He had fought to push his feelings for Iris aside, focusing instead on the woman who had been there for him. And then, just days before he was set to marry Julia, Iris had returned, asking for forgiveness, hoping to mend what had been broken.
As much as he had once loved Iris, he couldn't bring himself to walk away from Julia. The fear of Iris changing her mind again, of being left empty-handed, kept him from making that choice. Julia had always been there for him, and he wasn't ready to lose that.
Julia was kind, beautiful, and pure—everything he needed in a partner, but she wasn't the woman he had dreamed. He wasn't in love with her the way he had been with Iris, but she was decent, principled, and untouched by another man. In a way, she was perfect for him because he wouldn't have to fight anyone else for her attention.
He walked down the aisle with Julia, the sound of the wedding march still filling his ears, yet a part of him lingered in the past, with Iris. The image of Julia, smiling up at him, only deepened the ache in his chest. He couldn't forget that night, that "incident," when another man had touched the one thing he was about to "claim" as his. His hands tightened, feeling the weight of regret.
Pain twisted inside him, squeezing his chest. He couldn't stop replaying it in his mind—letting Iris slip through his fingers. If only he had known how things would turn out, how Julia would fall prey to someone else. If he could turn back time, he would have walked away from the wedding, gone back to Iris, and never let her go again.
But what could he do now? The wedding was done, and there was no undoing it. The choices had been made, and all he had were regrets and frustrations. Thinking about it again only made his pulse quicken in anger.
"Enough," Victor said, his jaw tightening. His eyes were hard, but he lowered his voice, trying to keep control. "You know how crucial this event is to me. I can't have you there. Do you want to destroy my reputation? People know I'm married, but not to you—only to Julia!"
Despite the safety of the penthouse, a chill ran down his spine. He was careful, making sure no one could hear them.
Iris's face turned red with rage. Her eyes burned with anger, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. "Why her? Why not me? I'm the one you love! Why are you bringing that woman?"
Victor's patience snapped. He was already overwhelmed, his mind tangled with stress. "Yes, I love you," he said through gritted teeth, his words sharp. "But you know your place. Julia is my wife, and everyone knows it. You? You're just my mistress! If you hadn't left me back then, things would be different. You'd be the one by my side, but now, look where we are. This is your fault!"
Iris's eyes welled up, her tears silently trailing down her cheeks. The sting of Victor's words hit her like a slap, and her voice trembled. "I made the wrong choice," she whispered. "But haven't I already paid for it? We love each other so much, but we can't shout it to the world. For all these years, I've stayed hidden, just your mistress. Isn't that pathetic? So many men want me, but I'm nothing more than your mistress." Her chest tightened with a bitter blend of anger and self-pity.
Victor's jaw tightened, and his hands gripped the armrest of the couch. He stood tall, his voice firm as he looked at Iris. "I'm taking Julia. She's my wife. I need my business partners and prospects to trust me, and I won't give them any reason to doubt me." His eyes narrowed. "Power is at stake."
His voice dropped, cold and cutting. "You left me when I begged you to stay. But I still took you back. And now? Now, you're nothing but a mistress. That's the price you pay for walking away." His eyes flicked to her. "Stop whining. Even Julia doesn't complain about the bare minimum I give her. You? You're full of demands."
Iris's nails dug into her palms, her fists shaking. Her teeth gritted together. The comparison to Julia, that useless woman—Victor's wife—burned like acid in her chest. A woman with no higher education, no class, and have a little pathetic business. And now, she had a child who wasn't even Victor's!
Iris's gaze turned hard, calculating. Why hadn't Victor divorced Julia yet? She knew in her bones she was better. From the wealth she carried like a crown to the powerful family she came from—Julia didn't stand a chance next to her.
"She's useless!" Her voice cracked with fury. "She's a disgrace to you! Look at her—she even have a bastard son, and she's the one you'll present to your business partners? What about me?" Her voice rose, shaking with rage. "I've already prepared for this!" The fury inside her swirled like a storm, unpredictable and fierce.
Victor yanked a cigarette from the pack, his fingers trembling with irritation as he lit it. He inhaled deeply, eyes narrowing at her. "You talk too much. It's exhausting." His words snapped like a whip. "She's my wife. She's the one I'm taking. You're just a mistress, so get over it." He exhaled a cloud of smoke. "If anyone finds out about us, you won't like what happens next." He shoved her, hard. She stumbled back, crashing into the soft couch with a gasp.
Iris felt a chill crawl down her spine. She'd never seen Victor so cold, so distant. His voice, low and firm, made her stomach twist with unease. "Hah! Are you threatening me, Victor?"
His lips curled into a devilish smirk, his eyes glinting with something dark. He leaned back in his chair, spinning slowly, his back now to her as he stared out the large glass window. The city sprawled below, indifferent to their conversation.
He spoke, his voice smooth but edged with danger. "Honey, I'm not threatening you. I'm just telling you what you should expect if you push me too far. Now, I don't want to hear another word about this. I'll cover whatever you spent on the party preparations, but my decision stands. I'm taking Julia. Don't worry, I'll make it up to you." His tone shifted back to sugary sweetness, but the weight of his words still hung heavy.
Iris almost admired how easily Victor flipped his emotions, like switching a light on and off. But no admiration flickered in her heart now—her disappointment had already set in. She couldn't believe what he had just said.
She had imagined herself at the party, dazzling in a beautiful gown, chatting with other socialites, living the life she deserved. And now, that trashy Julia was going to take her place?
Fury burned through her veins, hot and unstoppable. She stormed out of the penthouse, not sparing another glance at him. Her anger felt like it was going to burst out of her.
Only one person could help her now, the one who truly understood her. She pressed the button for the elevator, stepping inside with determination.
She dialed her phone with shaking hands. "Mom? We need to talk. Victor is taking his useless wife to the charity event! We have to stop this!"
The voice on the other end belonged to none other than Evelyn Voss, Victor's mother.
What was their plan? Was there still a chance for Julia to attend the party?